What She Never Said

by Catharine Riggs

  Eventually I fall sleep and slip into my nagging nightmare in which I morph into an oak. But this time my leaves don’t fall, my branches don’t shrink. Instead, I’m rooted to the ground as a wildfire closes in. The flames surge up my trunk until all that’s left is a pile of ash.

  My eyes open, and I leap from my bed, pulse racing. It was a dream, I repeat, but no matter. I feel a terrible closeness to death. I flick on the house lights and walk in circles until my breathing slows. Then I sit on the couch with my favorite photo album in an attempt to stave off sleep.

  The photos are from the year we took a family vacation to Kauai. Alice was seven. Adam five. We rented a house near the end of the road, across from a white sand beach lapped by turquoise waters. We were still in love then, Doug and me. You can see it in our eyes. The kids are golden and sandy, holding rocks and shells. I remember watching them frolic in the warm ocean water, sure I had found the secret of a good life. That I had shaken off the sadness of my childhood. How naïve I’d been not to have known the truth: there is no escaping the past.

  Two

  Monday. September 30

  I took a sick day on Friday, but now it’s Monday, and I’ve dragged myself back to work. I had no choice in the matter. Stacks of problems await me here. It was a long weekend. The longest ever. Just me and my depressing thoughts. The only interruption came from Zach, who stopped by on Sunday morning and pounded on my front door. I hid in the interior bathroom until he continued on his way. I didn’t want to see him. Hear his words. I needed some time to reflect.

  My Fitbit buzzes, and I frown, thinking it’s become a symbol of my flaws. Critical. Unyielding. Judgmental. It kept buzzing me all weekend long, reminding me of my missing steps. But what do ten thousand steps matter when I’m all alone in the world? No friends. No family. No future. A life built on a lie. I’m not a vessel of perfection. I’ve only been acting like I am.

  Over the weekend I thought a lot about Zach’s insightful words. How we each dealt with Hunter’s death in our own wretched ways. Zach became an alcoholic; Adam found drugs. Alice embraced solace on the road. And me? The instigator? I wrapped myself in a self-righteous cloak so I could look down on everyone else. Who could ever live up to my expectations? No one. Not even me.

  I want to change. Have to change. Learn to accept my past. See myself for who I am. But where to start? Should I reach out to Adam? Contact Alice? Tell my ex-husband the honest truth? Should I call Carlyn and beg for forgiveness for not standing by her side?

  With a sigh, I turn to my computer, where hundreds of emails await. I whip through several dozen until I reach one that gives me pause. There was another death this weekend. The fifth destitute in as many weeks. And not just any destitute. Eleanor Kingsley, the guest Kai forced to move to a studio to make room for the ex-governor’s wife. She was found on the ground next to her bed, a sheet twisted around her neck. A bizarre accident that occurred sometime late in the night.

  I retrieve Eleanor’s file from the cabinet and scan the pages for a contact number, but there are no relatives left in her life. And without a penny for a burial, I’ll have to refer her case to Pastor Sam.

  I place the file with the stack of the recently deceased. Is there anything unusual in the numbers? Something sinister behind the uptick? Could someone be targeting the destitutes, or is this just a strange run of bad luck? No Post-it Notes have surfaced with the bodies, so it’s doubtful the prankster is involved. I stare hard at the files, as if by doing so the truth will make itself clear.

  “Morning.” Detective Ruiz steps inside my office, his wide eyes begging forgiveness. “Have a moment?”

  “A quick one,” I reply, standing and forcing a smile.

  “I’m Detective Ruiz,” he says, holding out his massive hand.

  “Yes, I know.” I give his hand a quick shake. “I’ve seen you around campus.”

  He settles into his seat, and I do the same. “I have a few questions about your employees.” His gentle voice contrasts with the intensity of his size. “I’m interested in their whereabouts on the morning of Milo Kushner’s death.”

  The smile fades from my face. “I’m sorry. I’m really backed up. Can we do this another time?”

  He straightens his tie. “Just give me ten minutes,” he says. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  Out of my hair? I don’t know why, but the phrase gets stuck in my head. It’s obvious I’m exhausted and not thinking straight. This is no time to be speaking to the police. “Ten minutes max,” I say. “If you need more time, then you’ll have to schedule a meeting.”

  “No, ten minutes is good.” He goes on to ask me about several employees who were parked in the lot on the morning of Milo’s death. I answer all his questions, and then he taps his pencil on my desk. “What about your son?” he asks, looking up. “Adam Mosby? He is your son, correct?”

  I nod. “Yes. Adam is my son.”

  “I see the resemblance.”

  “In a way . . .” In truth, he resembles his dad.

  “He’s been working at Serenity for how long?”

  “Several weeks now . . . actually over a month.”

  “It must be nice to have your son living so close. Is he your only child?”

  “I have a daughter.”

  “She live here too?”

  “No.” What is the chitchat for? Is he trying to soften me up?

  “Then where . . . ?”

  “When she’s not touring, she lives in Hollywood.”

  “Touring? An actress?”

  “A singer.”

  “You must be proud.”

  “I am.” I fix my eyes on my computer. “Now if you’re done with your questioning, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “I’m almost done.” He peers at his notes. “Just a couple more questions. Can you remind me again of your process for hiring new employees?”

  I never told him about our process. He must have met with HR. “We work with several online employment sites and advertise in the local papers.”

  He shakes his head. “I mean, your process for vetting your employees. Criminal background checks. That sort of thing.”

  I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “What do you want to know?”

  “Do you run background checks on everyone?”

  “I don’t. HR does.”

  “But you review them?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “And what would . . . hmm . . . the word’s on the tip of my tongue. Exclude. Yes. That’s it. What would exclude a candidate from working here?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  A hint of frustration darkens his face. “I assume HR runs the background checks for a reason. If a candidate had a felony on his record, for example . . . ?”

  “We still might hire them. It depends on their crime.”

  “So what kind of ex-criminals would be excluded?”

  “Pretty much anyone involved with theft, drugs, or violence.” He doesn’t say anything, so I continue on. “We also wouldn’t hire anyone with a hit-and-run. Or more than one DUI.”

  “How about a history of spousal abuse or drug possession? Would you exclude someone like that?”

  I finger my Fitbit. “Yes. Quite possibly, we would.”

  He nods and flips through his notepad. “How about your son, Adam? Was he subject to a background check?”

  I picture Adam’s file hidden deep in my desk. “Of course.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I’ll have to look.”

  “Should I assume it’s clear?” His eyes have grown hard, and it dawns on me he knows the answers to his questions before he asks. I force my next words from my mouth.

  “Not quite.”

  He nods in a knowing way. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Look, I’m fully aware of my son’s history, but he’s a changed man. He’s fine.”

  “What about his recent felony charge? Know anything about that?”

  Hell. “It�
��s a personal matter between him and his wife. He’s pleaded not guilty to the charge.”

  The detective fingers his tie. “And he met his wife . . . where?”

  I clear my throat, bite my lip. When I say the words, they sound bad. “In rehab, but . . .”

  “But?” He studies me, and I get the feeling the man is reading my mind.

  “It shouldn’t matter to you where he met his wife.”

  “In this case, it might.”

  “He had a short-lived problem with addiction, but he’s now clean.”

  “He’s been arrested, though.” The detective flips through his notes. “In his senior year of high school? I believe he was arrested on campus.”

  “The charges were dropped.”

  “Because he didn’t commit the crime or because you hired a good lawyer?”

  “What are you insinuating?”

  “How about the recent incident in Palmdale?”

  “That had nothing to do with drugs.”

  The detective scours his notepad. “Are you sure?”

  “As far as I know. Why are you asking?”

  “Just interested. I’d like to take a look at Adam’s personnel file.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Impossible?”

  “Without a warrant, I mean.”

  “I hate to go there.”

  “Our procedures require you request his file from our executive director. If Kai agrees, then we’ll hand it over.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Fine.” I swipe my hand across my forehead. “Now, I really need to get back to work.”

  “Just a few more questions; then I’ll be done here.”

  I breathe deep. “All right.”

  “Can you tell me if Milo Kushner’s background check was clear?”

  “I believe so.”

  “No history of violence or drugs?”

  “We wouldn’t have hired him if he had a questionable history.”

  He nods, his eyes scouring my face. “But you hired your son.”

  “That’s different.”

  “In what way?”

  “He successfully completed his treatment.”

  “Three times?”

  “Yes,” I reply, the words wrenched from my mouth. “Three times.”

  He jots down a note. “Who do you report to?”

  “Kai Gilchrist.”

  “The boss man. Hmm.” His eyes spark. “So you discussed your son’s history with him?”

  “No.” I carefully choose my next words. “I discussed my son’s history with our HR director. She was comfortable that his past problems had been resolved.”

  “You’re referring to Molly North?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Ms. North a friend of yours?”

  “Our relationship had nothing to do with the decision,” I fib. “Now if you’ll excuse me . . .” I peer at the door, inviting him out.

  “Ah, yes. You’ve got work to do.” The detective gets to his feet, and I do the same. “Forgive me for being a nuisance,” he says.

  “You’re not being a nuisance. I’m just busy.”

  “Aren’t we all?” He backpedals toward the door and pauses beneath the doorjamb. “One last question. Any idea why your son would have parked on the far side of the parking lot the morning Kushner was killed?”

  I stare at him, working my way through an answer. Does he know about the Adderall? About Zach’s and Adam’s lie? If so, he must think I’m involved. “I don’t know,” I say. “You’ll have to ask Adam.”

  “I did. He said he likes to walk. That true?”

  “It is.” The detective stares at me, and again I get the feeling that he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I wait until he leaves the room, and then I drop into my seat, stomach churning. I feel guilty. But what have I done? I didn’t actually lie, just sidestepped the truth.

  Three

  Monday, September 30

  I leave my office shortly before five and head to the auditorium, where Kai has called a sudden mandatory all-hands staff meeting. I arrive to a standing-room-only affair and take my place against the back wall. I scan the sea of uniforms and spy my son seated beside Ember near the front of the room. She’s whispering something in his ear. Should I warn him about the detective? If I do, will he cause a scene?

  I turn my attention to the stage, where Kai sits between Finn and an unknown woman. Pastor Sam rounds out the pack. My attention focuses on the stranger. She’s young and seems enamored by Kai, giggling at something he says. Finn, on the other hand, sits stone faced, hands in lap, back as straight as a rod. Pastor Sam is dressed in her characteristic black, her eyes fixed on the heavens above.

  I nervously finger my Fitbit, another problem gnawing away. I’ve never been relegated to the audience. How come I’m not onstage? I jump at a tap on my shoulder.

  “You doing okay?” Except for his vivid blue eyes, Zach looks as wretched as I feel.

  I nod. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “I was worried. I didn’t mean for things to spiral like that.”

  I gesture at the crowd pressing around us. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

  “After?”

  I nod, wondering if Detective Ruiz might still be out and about. “I’ll meet you at the memorial garden after this meeting wraps up.”

  “Okay.” Zach leans over and rubs his knee a couple of times. “Shouldn’t you be up on stage?”

  I don’t answer. Just work my hands together until it feels like my fingers might break.

  Pastor Sam opens the assembly with a blessing and asks everyone to bow their heads. She gives a short tribute to Nurse Milo, talking about his legacy as a nurse and a man. Kai follows up with some quick remarks about the importance of communication and teamwork. He’s dressed in shades of pink and purple, a bandana wrapped around his head. He concludes with a quote from the Bible. It sounds odd coming from his hipster mouth.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

  There’s a smattering of applause, and Kai returns to his seat. Then Finn takes the mike and, with military precision, gives a security update. He talks in generalities for a while and then gets specific.

  “In the wake of Nurse Milo’s death, corporate will be implementing additional controls.” He leans forward, his features set in a scowl. “In November, we will be issuing updated ID tags with a tracking feature. We will know where you are and what you are doing each and every moment of your shift. All prescriptions will be logged in with their contents recorded daily.” He pauses, seemingly for effect. “And there will be random drug testing beginning tomorrow. If you are asked to give a sample, you must consent or face the loss of your job.”

  An unhappy murmur runs through the crowd, and Finn makes an ugly face. “You all signed waivers at the time you accepted your positions. They are held in your personnel files. If you have any questions or concerns, you are welcome to discuss with HR.”

  Kai jumps up when the grumbling continues and signals that Finn should take his seat. “Remember,” Kai says in a persuasive voice. “These new rules are for your own protection. In fact, we’ve collaborated with the local police department on many of our proposed changes, including the need for drug testing.” The grumbling only gets louder. “It’s for your safety,” Kai says, his face growing red, “and the safety of our guests.” He waits until the crowd settles down before continuing.

  “Moving on, I’d like to announce an exciting change in staffing. After nearly a quarter century of dedicated work, our wonderful head of HR, Molly North, has made the difficult decision to retire. She’s a private person and didn’t want a lot of fanfare, so she requested we keep her decision confidential until after her departure at noon today. Molly plans to spend her time traveling and visiting her grandkids. She wanted me to pass on her good wishes to the staff.”

  What? I almost choke. Th
at’s a lie, pure and simple. I recently had lunch with Molly, and she had no plans to retire. In fact, she spoke about her husband’s long battle with cancer and how Serenity’s benefits were the only thing keeping them financially afloat. What did Kai do to her? How’d he pull that off? I pause at a worrisome thought. Did her leaving have anything to do with me? With Adam’s background check? I never would’ve pushed her to ignore his infractions if I had thought she might lose her job.

  “We’ll miss Molly,” Kai continues, “but I’m excited to announce we have her replacement waiting in the wings. Charlese, come greet your new family.” The newcomer gets to her feet and totters to the mike on three-inch heels. Kai shakes her hand and then turns to face the crowd. “Staff, I’m pleased to introduce our new head of human resources, Charlese Baker. She comes direct from headquarters with an unparalleled background in her field.”

  Unparalleled background? Are you kidding me? If the woman is even thirty, it would be a shock. Molly’s experience must run rings around hers.

  Kai rambles on. “Charlese has trained in the latest management techniques and has exciting plans for their implementation. Now, please stand, and let’s give her a warm Serenity Acres welcome.” He raises his hands and begins to clap, and most of the employees do the same. I glare at Zach when he joins in. He gives me a sideways glance that asks, “What else am I supposed to do?”

  Charlese swivels back and forth as if her waist is detached from her hips. “Hello, Santa Barbara,” she calls, gracing us with a beauty queen wave. “I want you to know I’m absolutely over the moon in love with Serenity Acres and so excited to be given the opportunity to join your marvelous team.” Charlese speaks in a high-pitched, perky voice in which every sentence is part melody. “And to be living on the glorious American Riviera? Wow. Isn’t this the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen? I think so, and I’ve traveled to some pretty nifty places.” She glances back at Kai before continuing. “But I’m sure you’d like me to get to the point so you can get home to your loved ones, right?”

  “Right,” someone yells, and there’s a smattering of laughter. Charlese acts like a good sport and joins in.